Nigerian Track

*Between the devil and the deep blue sea: Why silence will kill us all*

By Faruk Ahmed

I lived in Maiduguri for three years, from 2005 to 2008, first as an aljamiri and then as a Diploma student of Computer Science at the University of Maiduguri.

I was lucky to have escaped the 2009 battle between Boko Haram members and the Nigerian Police Force which turned the ancient Shehu Town into a theatre of war. When I returned in 2010 to receive my testimonials, I noticed the scars the war had written all across the city.

One of the scars that stood out like a sore thumb was the impossible choice facing ordinary people: What should you do if you have families and friends in the dreaded Boko Haram group? Should you report them to the authorities and watch them dragged out and shot in the open? Or do you keep quiet and keep witnessing them commit heinous crimes?

Most chose the latter, believing blood is thicker than water. But this choice became a grievous, fatal mistake.

*The nightmarish call*

A very close friend of mine, Shazali, had brothers who were deep in the cult. Repugnant of their actions, he debated, cajoled and tried to impress on them why they should stop. But his pleas fell on deaf ears. Even when one of his brothers was arrested, Shazali shuttled between Borno and Kano states to cater for the brother's family. He chose loyalty.

But on a certain day, I received a call from Maiduguri. The caller on the other end was crying bitterly. With a shiver in her voice, Shazali's wife called out, "Your friend has been killed."

Shazali was shot while sitting in front of his house, not by the Nigerian state, but by his brothers' colleagues. His silence, his inability to act against the evil in his own home, prematurely cut short his life, turned his wife into a widow and orphaned his five little children.

His blood cries out to us from the ground of Borno. And we are not listening.

*Like Boko Haram, like bandits*

Recently, a social media friend asked me a question that sent a cold shiver down my spine: "What will you do if you are living in the same family house with bandits' informers? This is a true confession. Not hearsay."

I replied, "Hmmm, let me think."

But before I could make a coherent response, he added: "We are under siege. You and I can hardly break the jinx."

"So, in which state is this?" I asked.

"In Katsina around Kankara LG," he replied.

Katsina. Kankara. The names change, but the story remains the same. My friend, what you describe is not new; it is the same script from Maiduguri, merely with a different cast of killers.

The bandits in Kankara today are the Boko Haram of yesterday. The family member who acts as their informant is not just "one of us"; he is a poison in the well from which we all drink. To protect him is to sign a death warrant for yourself, your children, and your entire community.

We must learn the lesson Shazali paid for with his life: There is no neutrality between the killer and the victim. Silence is not peace; it is permission for your own murder.

*How we broke the jinx in Kano*

I was at the Aminu Kano College of Islamic and Legal Studies on January 21, 2012, when the ground shook. A deafening bang followed. A plume of smoke spiralled into the sky from the Police Zone One Headquarters.

We rushed to the scene and saw a human thumb, an amputated leg, charred vehicles, and body parts strewn around the barracks. That day’s blast was only a fraction of a coordinated assault that killed hundreds.

Between 2012 and the years that followed, Kano became a battleground. Lives were lost, businesses collapsed, and the city slept early out of fear.

But something changed. With God’s help and political will, one factor proved decisive: Kano’s people refused to harbour the insurgents. Even blood relatives were reported.

Security forces would raid such houses overnight. Those homes were demolished. Landlords became cautious, running thorough checks on new tenants. Citizens became their own neighbourhood watch.

It was a hard, often painful stance — but it worked. Kano turned the tide because ordinary people took extraordinary responsibility. We chose community over complicity.

*Your choice, our future*

We can turn the tide nationwide if we learn from the past and act decisively.

- _To every Nigerian: Break the silence._ The people of Kano saved themselves by reporting their own.You must find the same courage. Report the informant in your midst. Use anonymous channels if you must, but report them. Your silence will not save you when they come for your family next. Organize community watches. Defend yourselves, because no one will save us if we don’t save ourselves.

- _To our security operatives and politicians: Do the needful._ To the security operative:we know you are often underpaid and pressured. But we implore you: when a report comes, act on it. Do not let compromise blind you to your sacred oath. To the politician: your legacy will not be the roads you built, but the peace you kept. Provide the decisive leadership that saves lives. The political will that saved Kano can save Katsina.

- _To the Nation Builder in you: Fix the rotten system._ We are fighting symptoms while the disease—corruption—rages on. The secret "security votes" that vanish are the very funds that arm these bandits. This is why we launched the petition. This bill is a surgical strike on the financial engine of terror: it will end secret spending, open all security contracts, and mandate independent audits. It is our best chance to cut off the money that kills our children.

*Do not let Shazali's story be yours*

The time for passive despair is over. We cannot stand between the devil and the deep blue sea any longer. We must choose the sea, and swim together to safety.

Your voice is your power. Join thousands of Nigerians who have decided that enough is enough.

Here is what you can do, right now:

1. 👉 SIGN THE PETITION: Add your voice to demand an end to the secret funds fueling this violence. Sign the here: https://chng.it/HT8b5HVpwS . It takes less than 60 seconds.

2. SHARE YOUR PAIN: Break your silence publicly. Tell us your . How has insecurity touched you? Post it online, or send it to me on WhatsApp at 0803 535 4008 or email [email protected]. Your testimony is a weapon.

3. JOIN THE BUILDERS: If you are ready to move beyond talk and into action, join us, The Nation Builders Initiative ( ). Let's build a safer Nigeria together.

· For Updates: Join our broadcast group: https://chat.whatsapp.com/CgALxJc0KQX11RE3nJiEXg

· To Volunteer: Join the Nation Builders: https://chat.whatsapp.com/BxServUc5KcFu1SrgbgBKD

We stood our ground in Kano. We can stand our ground across Nigeria. But we must do it together, with courage, and with a clear demand for a system that works.

Silence is no longer an option. Your action today will determine who is left to tell our story tomorrow.

_Faruk Ahmed is the Coordinator of The Nation Builders Initiative ( )._